Читать книгу The Boy in the Bush - D. H. Lawrence - Страница 8

They walked off the timber platform into the sand, and Jack had his first experience of "sand-groping." The sand was thick and fine and soft, so he was glad to reach the oyster-shell path running up Wellington Street, in front of the shops. They passed along the street of brick cottages and two-storied houses, to Barrack Street, where Jack looked with some surprise on the pretentious buildings that stood up in the dusk: the handsome square red brick tower of the Town Hall, and on the sandy hill to the left, the fine white edifice of the Roman Catholic Church, which building was already older than Jack himself. Beyond the Town Hall was the Church of England. "See it!" said Mr. George. "That's where your father and mother were married. Slap-dash, military wedding, more muslin and red jackets than would stock a shop."

Mr. George spoke to everybody he met, ladies and gentlemen alike. The ladies seemed a bit old-fashioned, the gentlemen all wore nether garments at least four sizes too large for them. Jack was much piqued by this pioneering habit. And they all seemed very friendly and easy-going, like men in a pub at home.

"What did the Bedford Headmaster say he was sorry to lose you for? Smart at your books, were you?"

"I was good at Scripture and Shakespeare, but not at the other things.—I expect he was sorry to lose me from the football eleven. I was the cock there."

Mr. George blew his nose loudly, gasped, prrrhed, and said:

"You'd better say rooster, my son, here in Australia—especially in polite society. We're a trifle more particular than they are in England, I suppose.—Well, and what else have you got to crow about?"

If Jack had been the sulky sort, he would now have begun to get sulky. As it was, he was tired of being continually pulled up. But he fell back on his own peculiar callous indifference.

"I was captain of the first football eleven," he said in his indifferent voice, "and not bad in front of the sticks. And I took the long distance running cup a year under age. I tell you because you ask me."

Then Mr. George astonished Jack again by turning and planting himself in front of him like Balaam's ass, in the middle of the path, standing with feet apart in his big elephant trousers, snorting behind a walrus moustache, glaring and extending a large and powerful hand. He shook hands vigorously, saying, "You'll do, my son. You'll do for me."

Then he resumed his walk.