126 IDLEHURST : 



westward ; soon the rattle of drops in the trees 

 fell, and overhead a misty star looked through the 

 thinning clouds. Southwards a broad belt of greenish 

 sky opened out ; the disturbance was past, and all 

 the rain which had fallen was barely enough to darken 

 the dusty earth. Once more the gardener's patience 

 must take up the weary weight of hope deferred. 



The morning broke cool and clear ; the air was 

 washed of all the late sultry fever. A thousand small 

 white clouds sailed out of the south, sometimes fall- 

 ing into semblance of line and squadron, sometimes 

 curling and rounding up their dazzling tops with a 

 thundery threat, only to break down again into dusty 

 wisps and fringes. 



I determined to make a push with the hay. This 

 week we have cleared the four acres next the 

 garden Cannon Mead, we call it and the small 

 piece behind the wood. To-day I propose to work 

 late and finish the lower meadow along the brook. 

 My haymaking is carried on in the old-fashioned 

 way, spite of local doubts about my sanity. Here- 

 abouts, haymaking is a lost art ; the ideal operation 

 in Arnington is somewhat of this fashion : given 

 cloudless weather, the grass is first left to stand and 

 seed about a fortnight after it is ready to cut, from 

 notions of getting a bigger crop ; then the machine is 



