Читать книгу The Oaken Heart онлайн

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Norry was there too. He had stepped over from the forge and was mucking about in the stables, talking to Cooee and having a busman's holiday at what he charmingly calls "horse pleasure." This may mean anything from plucking a tail or drenching a beast with the tin bottle to, as on this occasion, speculating on the chances of an unborn colt becoming a champion show-jumper, a point-to-pointer, or even, in wilder moments, the winner of the Newmarket Town Plate. Cooee's mare, Struan, hung out of her box and looked introspective. Her foal was due in May.

The talk was completely idle. Sam thought the sand P.Y.C. had invested in and that Sam's Grandpa had thrown over the pitch earlier in the year had been a mistake, and the others were inclined to agree with him. The general feeling was that we should see the benefit in 1939 or 1940, and that meanwhile the important thing was to get the hay in from the outfield.

Then someone mentioned the shadow which lay in the back of all our minds and remarked that the wireless "was dull," which was a direct reference to the Sudeten trouble and typical of the national gift for understatement. No one made any comment, and there was one of those very long silences which punctuate, and sometimes take the place of, most Auburn summer conversations.