Unknown - Heartsease

“Safe in Ireland, I think. There was a storm, and Scrub and I were washed overboard, but we climbed a hill and I saw the boat going on into what looked like calmer water; and it was still going properly, too. He’ll come back, Aunt Anne, I’m sure he will — as soon as the Changes are over, and that can’t be long now.”

“Please God,” said Aunt Anne faintly. Margaret now saw that the whole of Uncle Peter’s other side was hidden by a yellow sling.

“What have you done to your arm?” she said.

He gave an odd little chuckle.

“What’ve you done, you mean, lass. Your friend the bull broke it after he’d knocked Davey Gordon into the water and drowned him. But it’s mending up nicely enough. I went down with them to see what I could do for you, supposing you got caught in your craziness. Leastways I think I did.”

“That’s what I told Jo,” said Margaret. “Where’s Rosie?”

“Sent her packing,” said Uncle Peter triumphantly. “What call had she to go nosing among my son’s belongings in the middle of the night, eh?”

“Did he tell you why we did it?” said Margaret.

“He tried,” said Aunt Anne with a tiny smile, the first that Margaret could remember for months. “But he’s a

poor hand at explaining himself, at least on paper. You must tell us over supper.”

“You know,” interrupted Uncle Peter, “I needn’t have troubled myself to traipse down there getting my arm broken. I might as well have stayed at home milking for all the help you needed of me, you and Jo.”

He sounded really pleased with the idea — proud of them, almost.

“Thank you for coming home,” said Aunt Anne. “We need you, Pete and I.”

“Shall I be able to stay?” said Margaret. “I could dye my hair and pretend to be the new servant-girl, I thought.”

“No need, no need,” said Uncle Peter.

“The village is different now, isn’t it, Pete?” said Aunt Anne.

“It is that,” he answered. “All different since Davey died. Not that you can lay it against him, honest — he just brought out of us what was in us. Oh, he piped the tune all right, but we’d no call to dance to it if we hadn’t the lust in us. But never mind that: winter’s gone now, and the season of idleness. Spring’s on us, and that means hard work and easy hearts. What could a man ask more, hard work and an easy heart?”

“I saw some heartsease in a field above Dursley,” said Margaret.

“That’s very early,” said Aunt Anne. “It’s always been my favorite flower, with its funny face. Like Jo, I used to think.”

“Oh,” said Margaret, surprised at the reason —sur-

prised too that she hadn’t thought of the likeness. “I nearly picked them to bring you, but it seemed best to leave them growing.”

“I’m glad you did,” said Aunt Anne.