Awakening To Let | Page 9

the porch, or rush upstairs, and as
they came in, shout: "Look!" and slide slowly down the banisters, head
foremost? Should he? The car turned in at the drive. It was too late!
And he only waited, jumping up and down in his excitement. The car
came quickly, whirred, and stopped. His father got out, exactly like life.
He bent down and little Jon bobbed up--they bumped. His father said
"Bless us! Well, old man, you are brown!" Just as he would; and the
sense of expectation--of something wanted--bubbled unextinguished in
little Jon. Then, with a long, shy look he saw his mother, in a blue dress,
with a blue motor scarf over her cap and hair, smiling. He jumped as
high as ever he could, twined his legs behind her back, and hugged. He
heard her gasp, and felt her hugging back. His eyes, very dark blue just
then, looked into hers, very dark brown, till her lips closed on his
eyebrow, and, squeezing with all his might, he heard her creak and
laugh, and say:
"You are strong, Jon!"
He slid down at that, and rushed into the hall, dragging her by the hand.
While he was eating his jam beneath the oak tree, he noticed things
about his mother that he had never seemed to see before, her cheeks for
instance were creamy, there were silver threads in her dark goldy hair,
her throat had no knob in it like Bella's, and she went in and out softly.
He noticed, too, some little lines running away from the corners of her
eyes, and a nice darkness under them. She was ever so beautiful, more
beautiful than "Da" or Mademoiselle, or "Auntie" June or even
"Auntie" Holly, to whom he had taken a fancy; even more beautiful
than Bella, who had pink cheeks and came out too suddenly in places.
This new beautifulness of his mother had a kind of particular
importance, and he ate less than he had expected to.
When tea was over his father wanted him to walk round the gardens.
He had a long conversation with his father about things in general,
avoiding his private life--Sir Lamorac, the Austrians, and the emptiness
he had felt these last three days, now so suddenly filled up. His father
told him of a place called Glensofantrim, where he and his mother had

been; and of the little people who came out of the ground there when it
was very quiet. Little Jon came to a halt, with his heels apart.
"Do you really believe they do, Daddy?" "No, Jon, but I thought you
might."
"Why?"
"You're younger than I; and they're fairies." Little Jon squared the
dimple in his chin.
"I don't believe in fairies. I never see any." "Ha!" said his father.
"Does Mum?"
His father smiled his funny smile.
"No; she only sees Pan."
"What's Pan?"
"The Goaty God who skips about in wild and beautiful places."
"Was he in Glensofantrim?"
"Mum said so."
Little Jon took his heels up, and led on.
"Did you see him?"
"No; I only saw Venus Anadyomene."
Little Jon reflected; Venus was in his book about the Greeks and
Trojans. Then Anna was her Christian and Dyomene her surname?
But it appeared, on inquiry, that it was one word, which meant rising
from the foam.
"Did she rise from the foam in Glensofantrim?"
"Yes; every day."
"What is she like, Daddy?"
"Like Mum."
"Oh! Then she must be..." but he stopped at that, rushed at a wall,
scrambled up, and promptly scrambled down again. The discovery that
his mother was beautiful was one which he felt must absolutely be kept
to himself. His father's cigar, however, took so long to smoke, that at
last he was compelled to say:
"I want to see what Mum's brought home. Do you mind, Daddy?"
He pitched the motive low, to absolve him from unmanliness, and was
a little disconcerted when his father looked at him right through,
heaved an important sigh, and answered:
"All right, old man, you go and love her."
He went, with a pretence of slowness, and then rushed, to make up. He

entered her bedroom from his own, the door being open. She was still
kneeling before a trunk, and he stood close to her, quite still.
She knelt up straight, and said:
"Well, Jon?"
"I thought I'd just come and see."
Having given and received another hug, he mounted the window-seat,
and tucking his legs up under him watched her unpack. He derived a
pleasure from the operation such as he had not yet known, partly
because she was taking out things which looked suspicious, and partly
because he liked to look at her. She moved differently from anybody
else, especially from Bella; she was certainly the refinedest-looking
person