Adders on the Heath

'Why, good morning, Dame Beatrice,' she said. 'Now, then, Arthur and Baby; it isn't no good you make that fuss. The fishes 'ave took a day off, just the same as we 'ave, and even if they 'adn't, you couldn't of kept 'em, 'cos we didn't bring no jam-jars. (I don't 'old with them carryin' glass about,' she added to Dame Beatrice. 'Fall down and cut their selves to pieces, more than likely.) Now, then, Baby, stop that noise, else you'll choke yourself on the sweetie I'm not goin' to give you till you stop your 'owling. And just you come back on the path, Arthur, else you won't get one, neither.'

The path was the broad ride across the heath which led to another bend of the stream. They took this track, well away from the water, and while the children frolicked and quarrelled, Dame Beatrice and Mrs Bath talked.

'You have chosen a very pleasant day for your outing,' said Dame Beatrice.

'Came in on the bus. They fair loves riding on the bus. Got to do some shopping when we get back, but time enough for that. They seen the fishing nets in a shop in the village and nothing wouldn't do but for Arthur to 'ave one. Well, of course, what 'e 'as the baby wants, too, so I 'ad to buy 'em one each.'

'You've walked all this way from the bus stop in the village?'

'Oh, no, only from the road that leads to Mr Campden-Towne's place. He spotted us in the village and stopped his car and gave us a nice ride up to here.'

'But how are you going to get back? It's a very long walk for the children.'

'Oh, we'll make out all right. Arthur, he's a right manly little walker and I can give 'im a piggy-back now and again while the baby has a bit of a walk.'

'Mr Campden-Towne? I've heard the name. Isn't he a tall, rather thin man who rides a very fine chestnut horse?'

'No, that isn't him. You're mistook, unless he've changed his shape and make and also 'is habits since I left his service.'

'I wonder of whom I'm thinking, then?'

'Might be the Colonel, although I wouldn't call 'im thin. He's tall, though, and he did have a chestnut horse, now I come to think.'

'But surely Mr Campden-Towne rides? I thought everybody round here did.'

'Not 'im. He's what they call a City gentleman. All 'is work's in London and Southampton. He's in shipping-leastways, 'e always used to be in the old days, or so I understood.'

'Really? And how did you like working for him?'

'Like it? Well, you don't think about whether you like it or not. You just does it, and looks forward to your evening out and your money.'

Dame Beatrice was anxious to obtain a first-hand description of Mr Campden-Towne, although she had seen his portrait, but she did not intend that her anxiety should be obvious, so she began to talk about the children and enquired whether Mrs Bath was hoping that they would grow up to be interested in athletics. This led, in the most natural way, to a dissertation on the merits and demerits of the Scylla and District club and to some interesting sidelights on the characters and attainments of its members. Another thought-an idle one this time- struck Dame Beatrice.

'Did you find difficulty in adhering to a training schedule when you were working for Mr Campden-Towne?' she enquired.

'Bless you, no, Dame Beatrice! I used to go errands down the village twice a week, and soon's I were out of the 'ouse I used to run. And when I come to the little river I used to jump it from side to side, as many times as I could. That was when I was goin', of course. Coming back I 'ad plenty to carry, so I used to do weight-liftin' exercises with the baskets and bags. Oh, training was dead easy in them days. And then, you see, I could always do my press-ups and squats and leg exercises and that sort of thing, in my bedroom. Once the master fell down, dead drunk, just inside the front door, and the missus was ever so worried because she was expecting two people for dinner. I told her not to bother. All she need do was to get one of the others to open the bedroom door wide, Mr Campden-Towne being a very stocky man, though only five foot seven, and I'd have him on the bed, safe out of the way, in no time, and so I would have done, but she insisted on helping, and I must say she managed very well.'

'And the guests arrived and the dinner passed off quite smoothly?'

'I'll say it did. Mrs Campden-Towne telephoned the hotel to a gentleman there she'd met, and asked him over to make a fourth at bridge, the way they'd enjoy their evening. Mr and Mrs Maidston was the couple. The other gentleman's name I never heard, for everybody called him Sidney. (Come on, Arthur! Bring Jennie! We're turning back now!) You don't mind if we leave you, madam? I think they'll have had enough by the time I get 'em home.'

'Oh, I'll come with you as far as the hotel,' said Dame Beatrice, 'and then you must come in and rest while I get my car round. You can trust my man, a thoroughly experienced driver. I am interested that you know the people over there.' She made a sketchy gesture towards the lonely house. 'By the way, who lives in the cottage in the woods and keeps geese?' (The young men had told her and Laura of their ignominious retreat in the face of these enemies.)

'The cottage? Oh, their name's Lovebaker. A very old Forest family they are.'

The baby began to tire soon after they had crossed the rustic bridge and were on the causeway. Her mother picked her up and carried her as far as the edge of the common. Here there was a sturdy wooden bench and the chance of a rest. Some farm-hands were rounding up bullocks. Forest ponies were scattered all over an enormous area of grass and nearer at hand some riders, both girls and men, were desultorily whacking a polo ball about. A few people were tracking down the brownish Forest mushrooms. Cars were out on a secondary road which cut the common in two. It ran on into dim blue woods and over a bridge which crossed another stretch of the river before the way turned at right-angles to reach, past glades and the natural Forest trees, the village of Emery Down.

The two children soon tired of sitting on the seat. Arthur announced his intention of catching a pony and taking it home. He made cowboy noises and galloped away. His mother let the baby toddle after him, but the child began to cry as soon as she realised that she could not catch him. Her mother went after her, scooped her up, brought her back to the seat, wiped her eyes and nose and comforted her with the gift of a sweet.