'
Then she sang a tender love ballad. I have often shared the
pleasure of thousands under the spell of her voice, but I have never
heard her sing as to that small audience on Faraway turnpike.
As we came near Rickard's Hall we could hear the fiddles and the
calling off.
The windows on the long sides of the big house were open. Long
shafts of light shot out upon the gloom. It had always reminded me
of a picture of Noah's ark that hung in my bedroom and now it
seemed to be floating, with resting oars of gold, in a deluge of
darkness. We were greeted with a noisy welcome, at the door.
Many of the boys and girls came, from all sides of the big hall, and
shook hands with us. Enos Brown, whose long forelocks had been
oiled for the occasion and combed down so they touched his right
eyebrow, was panting in a jig that jarred the house. His trouser legs
were caught on the tops of his fine boots. He nodded to me as I
came in, snapped his fingers and doubled his energy. It was an
exhibition both of power and endurance.
Pages:
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262