He has some idea of
rhyme, and some perception of reason, and--yes, some of the lines
_were_ musical. His general attitude reminded me of Piers
Plowman. Didn't he recall Piers Plowman to you?"
"I'm glad you can console yourself in that way, David," said his
wife relentlessly.
The mare stopped again, and Sewell looked over his shoulder at the
house, now black in the twilight, on the crest of the low hill
across the hollow behind them. "I declare," he said, "the loneliness
of that place almost broke my heart. There!" he added, as the faint
sickle gleamed in the sky above the roof, "I've got the new moon
right over my left shoulder for my pains. That's what comes of
having a sympathetic nature."
* * * * *
The boy was looking at the new moon, across the broken gate which
stopped the largest gap in the tumbled stone wall. He still gripped
in his hand the manuscript which he had been reading to the
minister.
"There, Lem," called his mother's voice from the house, "I guess
you've seen the last of 'em for one while. I'm 'fraid you'll take
cold out there 'n the dew. Come in, child."
The boy obeyed. "I was looking at the new moon, mother. I saw it
over my right shoulder. Did you hear--hear him," he asked, in a
broken and husky voice,--"hear how he praised my poetry, mother?"
* * * * *
"Oh, _do_ make her get up, David!" cried Mrs.
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