Round the Corner

, and indeed I don't know th

THE ARAN

g in his heart that England was the most beautiful country in the world. He saw no reason to alter h

r the first time, he saw the black and grey of South Lancashire skies and the dark chimneys rising out of the dense mass of buildings he could be glad of them too. All the same he wondered what strange whimsey could have take

e met or caught up on the road, and nearly always left them more cheerful than when he encountered them. When he was alone he talked or sang to himself in a very loud voice. He was not looking for adventure and met with none. H

the tramlines until he came to St. Thomas' Church. There he asked for Fern Square and received

anger 'ere

bridge and the dome of a station beyond. He saw a tram labelled Pendle and followed it. The road led him under the railway bridge, past a sequestered market and a sort of fair with booths and swing-boats and a cocoa-nut shy and a merry-go-round. He stopped and watched the dirty mournful-

gain are hills covered with houses, and away to right and left a forest of tall chimneys. Over all hangs a pall of mist and smoke, a railing edges the road, and here Serge stood and gazed at the queer degraded beauty of it all. There was

g

oad here was finely broad, but it was flanked on either side by mean little houses and forlorn little shops. It made the slow ascent of a

che and a complexion like a suet-puddin

ere," said the ma

answer

at's." Se

s church neither. Him and the Roman priest, Father Soledano, they does a lot of good, and

ve been i

ago, I

at

Mr. Folyat 'e spoke for my repu-character, but you can't say nothing agin the p'leece. T

ght," sa

And the man

over the square at the Wesleyan Chapel. A factory hooter buzz

or Minna opened it and

Serge. "Which

sn't in," re

ember me, and I've been thinki

g

er

d away, and he heard her c

come! Serge

and Minna came down upon him. He caught his mother up in a great hug and squeezed the breath out of her,

lain, but he liked the mischief in Minna's eyes, and she had a wide friendly grin and a dimple in her cheek. His mother was so much older than he had imagined her and he wanted to tease her out of it. Sh

as and pulled d

olyat, "you have ta

nt to St. Withans first. I didn't

This came

cheerful hole you'

le!" sa

But your father would come. He sa

ces, but said nothing. Serge not

children? How m

s. Folyat felt fo

nswered

r people. James is dead. He fell from the roof. Frederic is ou

bout Le

's in Rio, in a bank.

r sovereigns, three shillings and ten coppers. He

all,"

money. Gertrude and Mary and his

f this place isn't full of mon

much money in it as all that. What you've go

"said his place was among the poo

was fishing for his

He said my father was very good to the poor. He was a

ame." Minna heaped Serge's

deric?" as

" replied Mrs. Folyat wi

o get the supper, and then Serge insisted on helping and asked i

ixed her spectacles and looke

ere's a look in you too of my mo

ll my life trying things and le

g

ow to us, your leavin

it myself. I was sick of the water and pretending to defend

were on

ing else. I can't stand the things men do

ou mus

hall have to ask you t

say no to you. He nev

onsistency

e have had terrible times, my dear. T

girls get marri

"there are so few men whom one

soul." When he realised who it was he shook his son warmly by the hand and went on saying: "I'm glad to see you, glad to see

he queer thing is that I feel it is I who ought to

d, and they sat

he contents of all the wills, especially those by which neither she nor Francis had benefited, and how Willie Folyat had won his case an

illie for a husband. He

and got a handsome sett

tle carries ver

!" Mrs. Folyat a

ed at Serg

t married,

N

s. Francis drank toast and water and Serge disposed of two bottles of

id, "how they lik

lence, "and I fancy they are snobs and like being in a pl

Mrs. Folyat, "are worth a

e must be half a million. What do they all do? Their work can't be very satisfying. Do they produce children at an appalling rate? Or is there any artistic outlet? There can't be, or it wouldn't be

d, but she was hurt at the mention of one whom she ha

ve been thinking you for years and years and I find it difficult to [Pg 78]say anything. You

pe." Mrs. Folyat was rather querulo

the Bishop of Bloemfo

A

rriedly in large gulps and had always finished his plateful before everybody else. Serge suddenly found their methods of eating intensely interesting. He too loved eating-he had revelled in E

ook up pipe and tobacco. Serge pr

ke cigarettes?

N

does. Beas

d said nothing. Mrs. Folyat remained in her chair at the end of the table and said nothing either. Serge blew rings and

you been here

en Mrs. Folyat in a ventriloquial voice, without the smallest expr

s have we been

ny. Nine,

s more t

til black spots swam in front of his eyes. A gust of indignation swe

re you are as silent and gloom-stricken as though I'd risen and confronted you from the grave. . . . Do you remember how I blubbered when I

ssive, sitting there by the fireplace, and yet there was humour in his very bulk. Serge felt that he had made an error in tactics, a blunder in manners. These people, his father and mother, were not to be taken by assault. They had ramparts and bulwarks against all comers, perhaps against each other, and their inmost lives were not to be laid bare for the first clamorous belligerent. He realised that his mother's tears were defensiv

d fondled it. He squeezed it like a lover, and

rry," h

Zulu War and taught Dutch girls English on a Boer farm, done anything and everything-prospected for gold, diamonds; cheated and been cheated; thrashed and been thrashed; and as he told the smoke came faster from his father's bowl and pipe, and at last he

the picture

cis. "I thought some

aid out there the colour was fine. One or two were sent t

, gathered her shawl about her shoulders, told them not to be late, gave Serge her ch

unted once or twice and then lean

men and women. It makes a difference. One loses the right

inter. If it's impossible-there

re will

a few shillings and the clothe

t a ric

ut a penny for me s

t's

g

odging and a hundred a year and I'll pa

e you a hund

has Fred

ore than I could afford. Your m

e my offer? I shall stay, and go on staying until y

at?" asked Francis,

ow that they're false, but we're not strong enough to break away. Isn't it so? It's called good-nature. Doesn't everybody call you a good-natured man?

what you'r

at all if I don't. I've come home. I'm interested. Things are going t

ort of

What matters is that th

ute his soul, and that man his father. Their conversation seemed to him like two cogged wheels in a machine missing their clutch and whizzing round separately. They went on talking, but finally admitted the futilit

there and the room full of smoke. Serge rose and t

rederic.

urned Frederic. "G

two y

e men about you. I showed them your drawings. One

gine it's like being an ordinary person-

n working har

y late," sa

sitting up. All the women in

n't k

he to sl

ake your mother up, and

e la

gh at," muttered Frederic. "

Serge. "I was laughing becaus

is collar and covered his feet with his coat and lay down on the sofa. Fred

he muttered,

What a weak chin he