If Winter Comes | Page 4

a duck pond (more prominent in winter); also, in all seasons, and the
survivors of many ages, a clump of elm trees surrounded by a decayed

bench; a well surrounded by a decayed paling, so decayed that it had
long ago thrown itself flat on the ground into which it continued
venerably to decay; and at the southeastern extremity a village pound
surrounded by a decayed grey wall and now used by the youth of the
village for the purpose of impounding one another in parties or sides in
a game well called "Pound I."
At the southwestern extremity of the Green, and immediately opposite
the Tybar Arms, was a blacksmith's forge perpetually inhabited and
directed by a race named Wirk. The forge was the only human
habitation or personal and individual workshop actually on the Green,
and it was said, and freely admitted by the successive members of the
tribe of Wirk, that it had "no right" to be there. There it nevertheless
was, had been for centuries, so far as anybody knew to the contrary,
and administered always by a Wirk. In some mysterious way which
nobody ever seemed to recognize till it actually happened there was
always a son Wirk to continue the forge when the father Wirk died and
was carried off to be deposited by his fathers who had continued it
before him. It was also said in the village, as touching this matter of "no
right", that nobody could understand how the forge ever came to be
there and that it certainly would be turned off one day; and with this
also the current members of the tribe of Wirk cordially agreed. They
understood less than anybody how they ever came to be there, and they
knew perfectly well they would be turned off one day; saying
which--and it was a common subject of debate among village sires of a
summer evening, seated outside the Tybar Arms--saying which, the
Wirk of the day would gaze earnestly up the road and look at his watch
as if the power which would turn him off was then on its way and was
getting a bit overdue.
The present representatives of the tribe of Wirk were known as Old
Wirk and Young Wirk. Young Wirk was sixty-seven. No one knew
where a still younger Wirk would come from when Old Wirk died and
when Young Wirk died. But no one troubled to know. No one knows,
precisely, where the next Pope is coming from, but he always comes,
and successive Wirks appeared as surely. Old Wirk was past duty at the
forge now. He sat on a Windsor chair all day and watched Young Wirk.

When the day was finished Old Wirk and Young Wirk would walk
across the Green to the pound, not together, but Old Wirk in front and
Young Wirk immediately behind him; both with the same gait, bent
and with a stick. On reaching the pound they would gaze profoundly
into it over the decayed, grey wall, rather as if they were looking to see
if the power that was going to turn out the forge was there, and then,
the power apparently not being there, they would return, trailing back
in the same single file, and take up their reserved positions on the
bench before the Tybar Arms.
IV
Mark Sabre, intensely fond of Penny Green, had reflected upon it
sometimes as a curious thing that there was scarcely one of the village's
inhabitants or institutions but had evidenced little differences of
attitude between himself and Mabel, who was not intensely fond of
Penny Green. The aged Wirks had served their turn. Mabel had once
considered the Wirks extremely picturesque and, quite early in their
married life, had invited them to her house that she might photograph
them for her album.
They arrived, in single file, but she did not photograph them for her
album. The photograph was not taken because Mark, when they
presented themselves, expressed surprise that the aged pair were led off
by the parlour maid to have tea in the kitchen. Why on earth didn't they
have tea with them, with himself and Mabel, in the garden?
Mabel did what Sabre called "flew up"; and at the summit of her flight
up inquired, "Suppose some one called?"
"Well, suppose they did?" Sabre inquired.
Mabel in a markedly calm voice then gave certain orders to the maid,
who had brought out the tea and remained while the fate of the aged
Wirks was in suspense.
The maid departed with the orders and Sabre commented, "Sending
them off? Well, I'm dashed!"

Half an hour later the aged pair, having been led into the kitchen and
having had tea there, were led out again and released by the maid on to
the village Green