Bliss | Page 3

feet in a piece of old
blanket.
"Lift up. Easy does it."
They might have been a couple of young ponies. The storeman felt over
the cords holding his load, unhooked the brakechain from the wheel,
and whistling, he swung up beside them.
"Keep close to me," said Lottie, "because otherwise you pull the shawl
away from my side, Kezia."

But Kezia edged up to the storeman. He towered beside her big as a
giant and he smelled of nuts and new wooden boxes.
3
It was the first time that Lottie and Kezia had ever been out so late.
Everything looked different--the painted wooden houses far smaller
than they did by day, the gardens far bigger and wilder. Bright stars
speckled the sky and the moon hung over the harbour dabbling the
waves with gold. They could see the lighthouse shining on Quarantine
Island, and the green lights on the old coal hulks.
"There comes the Picton boat," said the storeman, pointing to a little
steamer all hung with bright beads.
But when they reached the top of the hill and began to go down the
other side the harbour disappeared, and although they were still in the
town they were quite lost. Other carts rattled past. Everybody knew the
storeman.
"Night, Fred."
"Night O," he shouted.
Kezia liked very much to hear him. Whenever a cart appeared in the
distance she looked up and waited for his voice. He was an old friend;
and she and her grandmother had often been to his place to buy grapes.
The storeman lived alone in a cottage that had a glasshouse against one
wall built by himself. All the glasshouse was spanned and arched over
with one beautiful vine. He took her brown basket from her, lined it
with three large leaves, and then he felt in his belt for a little horn knife,
reached up and snapped off a big blue cluster and laid it on the leaves
so tenderly that Kezia held her breath to watch. He was a very big man.
He wore brown velvet trousers, and he had a long brown beard. But he
never wore a collar, not even on Sunday. The back of his neck was
burnt bright red.
"Where are we now?" Every few minutes one of the children asked him

the question.
"Why, this is Hawk Street, or Charlotte Crescent."
"Of course it is," Lottie pricked up her ears at the last name; she always
felt that Charlotte Crescent belonged specially to her. Very few people
had streets with the same name as theirs.
"Look, Kezia, there is Charlotte Crescent. Doesn't it look different?"
Now everything familiar was left behind. Now the big dray rattled into
unknown country, along new roads with high clay banks on either side,
up steep hills, down into bushy valleys, through wide shallow rivers.
Further and further. Lottie's head wagged; she drooped, she slipped half
into Kezia's lap and lay there. But Kezia could not open her eyes wide
enough. The wind blew and she shivered; but her cheeks and ears
burned.
"Do stars ever blow about?" she asked.
"Not to notice," said the storeman.
"We've got a nuncle and a naunt living near our new house," said Kezia.
"They have got two children, Pip, the eldest is called, and the
youngest's name is Rags. He's got a ram. He has to feed it with a
nenamuel teapot and a glove top over the spout. He's going to show us.
What is the difference between a ram and a sheep?"
"Well, a ram has horns and runs for you."
Kezia considered. "I don't want to see it frightfully," she said. "I hate
rushing animals like dogs and parrots. I often dream that animals rush
at me--even camels--and while they are rushing, their heads swell
e-enormous."
The storeman said nothing. Kezia peered up at him, screwing up her
eyes. Then she put her finger out and stroked his sleeve; it felt hairy.
"Are we near?" she asked.

"Not far off, now," answered the storeman. "Getting tired?"
"Well, I'm not an atom bit sleepy," said Kezia. "But my eyes keep
curling up in such a funny sort of way." She gave a long sigh, and to
stop her eyes from curling she shut them.... When she opened them
again they were clanking through a drive that cut through the garden
like a whiplash, looping suddenly an island of green, and behind the
island, but out of sight until you came upon it, was the house. It was
long and low built, with a pillared veranda and balcony all the way
round. The soft white bulk of it lay stretched upon the green garden like
a sleeping beast. And now one and now another of the windows leaped
into light. Someone was walking through