Free Mockery Gap by T. F. Powys

that they, like herself, had been surprised by the exciting vision of the new fisherman.
    But she couldn’t stand there for ever, even though the sun and the cowslips might wish to keep her; for as it was Rebecca and not Dinah that Master Simon the fine young god of Mockery was after that day, the mutton would grow black in the oven while Rebecca … Mrs. Pattimore had once noticed something odd happening in the corner of the vicarage garden. And also—Mrs. Pattimore didn’t dare to look at the sea again—something must have happened to the time of day too, as well as—which was very likely—to the vicarage cooking. For coming towards her was Mary Gulliver, walking fast as though she were late, to fetch up the cows.
    Mrs. Pattimore hurried to the stile. But even with her fears for the dinner she had to stop there, because she heard Mr. Pink and Farmer Cheney talking in the lane, and she didn’t wish to rudely interrupt them by her presence—and so Dorcas waited.
    The two men were standing under the shade of a tall elm tree in the lane, and Farmer Cheney, with his unbuttoned beard shaking, was looking up into the meek, wide face of Mr. Pink, whose old straw hat was perched like a queer bird at the extreme back of hishead, and saying angrily, ‘You allow all the thieves in the world to come to Mockery; there’s the schoolmistress who’s always spying about in my fields, and now there’s this fisherman, who will want to know what I be looking for when I do dig in Cliff mound.’
    ‘But what are you digging for?’ replied Mr. Pink, trying to turn away Mr. Cheney’s wrath with a mild question.
    ‘Rabbits,’ said Mr. Cheney.
    Mrs. Pattimore blushed; she didn’t like to listen, and yet she couldn’t climb over the stile, for, besides the rudeness of breaking in upon the men, they might watch her climbing!
    ‘And there’s Gulliver,’ called out the farmer loudly, ‘who you allow to go on year after year without paying his rent, and who talks only of monsters; he’s little better than a thief to landlord.’
    ‘Mr. Gulliver,’ said Mr. Pink, in the tone of voice that he used when any one’s faults were mentioned—‘Mr. Gulliver is interested in geography.’
    ‘So ’e mid be,’ exclaimed the farmer. ‘And suppose new fisherman be interested in maidens, me boy Simon, that I’ve a-worked all me life for together wi’ ’is own mother, will kick and scream in’s bed for sadness.’
    ‘But there are quite a number of young women in Mockery, and there’s Mrs….’
    Mrs. Pattimore climbed over the stile.Farmer Cheney turned away, and Mr. Pink met her with his usual question, ‘Had she noticed Mrs. Moggs going to the sea?’
    Mrs. Pattimore blushed, and replied that she hadn’t.
    ‘What can I give,’ asked Mr. Pink, ‘to poor Mrs. Moggs, whose bells only ring when she’s happy, and who’s never seen the sea? Isn’t there any pretty thing that I can give her? for one lovely thing, Mrs. Pattimore, you know, leads to another.’
    Mrs. Pattimore wanted to go, but she liked Mr. Pink, and she wished to say something; a tiny mouse rustled the ivy in the hedge and darted up the bank.
    ‘I used to keep white mice when I was a girl,’ she said.
    Mr. Pink rubbed his hands joyfully.
    ‘The very thing Mr. Tarr advised,’ he said.
    Mrs. Pattimore entered the vicarage by the front door at almost the same moment that Rebecca Pring entered, coming from her favourite corner of the garden, at the back.
    Rebecca blushingly met her mistress and rang the dinner-bell.

Chapter 11
A N U GLY T HING
    W E fancy ourselves as wise as the old gentleman who holds up his hands and points to heaven and its amusements that await the good.
    We hold out our hands too and show the world Mockery Gap, and point out that there are pretty pebbles to pick up along the seashore .
    Pebbles, that from the point of view of the Author of all things—and bow to Him we had better, or we may rue the omission—may as well be looked at as