Spring was in the hearts of men, and their tall companions, trees.
Their troubles, the stiflings of each other's growth, and all such things, seemed of little moment. Spring had them by the throat. It turned old men round, and made them stare at women younger than themselves. It made young men and women walking side by side touch each other, and every bird on the branches tune his pipe. Flying sunlight speckled the fluttered leaves, and gushed the cheeks of crippled boys who limped into the Gardens, till their pale Cockney faces shone with a strange glow.
In the Broad Walk, beneath those dangerous trees, the elms, people sat and took the sun--cheek by jowl, generals and nursemaids, parsons and the unemployed. Above, in that Spring wind, the elm-tree boughs were swaying, rustling, creaking ever so gently, carrying on the innumerable talk of trees--their sapient, wordless conversation over the affairs of men. It was pleasant, too, to see and hear the myriad movement of the million little separate leaves, each shaped differently, flighting never twice alike, yet all obedient to the single spirit of their tree.
Thyme and Martin were sitting on a seat beneath the largest of all the elms. Their manner lacked the unconcern and dignity of the moment, when, two hours before, they had started forth on their discovery from the other end of the Broad Walk. Martin spoke:
"It's given you the hump! First sight of blood, and you're like all the rest of them!""I'm not, Martin. How perfectly beastly of you!""Oh yes, you are. There's plenty of aestheticism about you and your people--plenty of good intentions--but not an ounce of real business!""Don't abuse my people; they're just as kind as you!""Oh, they're kind enough, and they can see what's wrong. It's not that which stops them. But your dad's a regular official. He's got so much sense of what he ought not to do that he never does anything;Just as Hilary's got so much consciousness of what he ought to do that be never does anything. You went to that woman's this morning with your ideas of helping her all cut and dried, and now that you find the facts aren't what you thought, you're stumped!""One can't believe anything they say. That's what I hate. I thought Hughs simply knocked her about. I didn't know it was her jealousy--""Of course you didn't. Do you imagine those people give anything away to our sort unless they're forced? They know better.""Well, I hate the whole thing--it's all so sordid!""O Lord!"
"Well, it is! I don't feel that I want to help a woman who can say and feel such horrid things, or the girl, or any of them.""Who cares what they say or feel? that's not the point. It's simply a case of common sense: Your people put that girl there, and they must get her to clear out again sharp. It's just a question of what's healthy.""Well, I know it's not healthy for me to have anything to do with, and I won't! I don't believe you can help people unless they want to be helped."Martin whistled.
"You're rather a brute, I think," said Thyme.
"A brute, not rather a brute. That's all the difference.""For the worse!"
"I don't think so, Thyme!"
There was no answer.
"Look at me."
Very slowly Thyme turned her eyes.
"Well?"
"Are you one of us, or are you not?"
"Of course I am."
"You're not!"
"I am."
"Well, don't let's fight about it. Give me your hand."He dropped his hand on hers. Her face had flushed rose colour.
Suddenly she freed herself. "Here's Uncle Hilary!"It was indeed Hilary, with Miranda, trotting in advance. His hands were crossed behind him, his face bent towards the ground. The two young people on the bench sat looking at him.
"Buried in self-contemplation," murmured Martin; "that's the way he always walks. I shall tell him about this!"The colour of Thyme's face deepened from rose to crimson.
"No!"
"Why not?"
"Well--those new---" She could not bring out that word "clothes."It would have given her thoughts away.
Hilary seemed ****** for their seat, but Miranda, aware of Martin, stopped. "A man of action!" she appeared to say. "The one who pulls my ears." And turning, as though unconscious, she endeavoured to lead Hilary away. Her master, however, had already seen his niece.
He came and sat down on the bench beside her.
"We wanted you!" said Martin, eyeing him slowly, as a young dog will eye another of a different age and breed. "Thyme and I have been to see the Hughs in Hound Street. Things are blowing up for a mess.
