the diary of a goose girl(牧鹅女日记)-第10部分
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Phoebe and I have been to a Hen Conference at Buffington。 It was
for the purpose of raising the standard of the British Hen； and our local
Countess； who is much interested in poultry； was in the chair。
It was a very learned body； but Phoebe had coached me so well that at
the noon recess I could talk confidently with the members； discussing the
various advantages of True and Crossed Minorcas； Feverels； Andalusians；
Cochin Chinas； Shanghais； and the White Leghorn。 （Phoebe； when she
pronounces this word； leaves out the 〃h〃 and bears down heavily on the
last syllable； so that it rhymes with begone！）
As I was sitting under the trees waiting for Phoebe to finish some
shopping in the village； a travelling poultry…dealer came along and offered
to sell me a silver Wyandotte pullet and cockerel。 This was a new breed
to me and I asked the price； which proved to be more than I should pay for
a hat in Bond Street。 I hesitated； thinking meantime what a delightful
parting gift they would be for Phoebe； I mean if we ever should part；
which seems more and more unlikely； as I shall never leave Thornycroft
until somebody comes properly to fetch me； indeed； unless the 〃fetching〃
is done somewhat speedily I may decline to go under any circumstances。
My indecision as to the purchase was finally banished when the
poultryman asserted that the fowls had clear open centres all over； black
lacing entirely round the white centres； were free from white edging； and
each had a cherry…red eye。 This catalogue of charms inflamed my
imagination； though it gave me no mental picture of a silver Wyandotte
fowl； and I paid the money while the dealer crammed the chicks；
squawking into my five…o'clock tea…basket。
The afternoon session of the conference was most exciting； for we
reached the subject of imported eggs； an industry that is assuming
terrifying proportions。 The London hotel egg comes from Denmark； it
seems；I should think by sailing vessel； not steamer； but I may be wrong。
After we had settled that the British Hen should be protected and
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encouraged； and agreed solemnly to abstain from Danish eggs in any form；
and made a resolution stating that our loyalty to Queen Alexandra would
remain undiminished； we argued the subject of hen diet。 There was a
great difference of opinion here and the discussion was heated； the
honorary treasurer standing for pulped mangold and flint grit； the chair
insisting on barley meal and randans； while one eloquent young woman
declared； to loud cries of 〃'Ear； 'ear！〃 that rice pudding and bone chips
produce more eggs to the square hen than any other sort of food。
Impassioned orators arose here and there in the audience demanding
recognition for beef scraps； charcoal； round corn or buckwheat。 Foods
were regarded from various standpoints： as general invigorators； growth
assisters； and egg producers。 A very handsome young farmer carried off
final honours； and proved to the satisfaction of all the feminine poultry…
raisers that green young hog bones fresh cut in the Banner Bone Breaker
（of which he was the agent） possessed a nutritive value not to be expressed
in human language。
Phoebe was distinctly nervous when I rose to say a few words on
poultry breeding； announcing as my topic 〃Mothers； Stepmothers； Foster…
Mothers； and Incubators。〃 Protected by the consciousness that no one in
the assemblage could possibly know me； I made a distinct success in my
maiden speech； indeed； I somewhat overshot the mark； for the Countess in
the chair sent me a note asking me to dine with her that evening。 I
suppressed the note and took Phoebe away before the proceedings were
finished； vanishing from the scene of my triumphs like a veiled prophet。
Just as we were passing out the door we paused to hear the report of a
special committee whose chairman read the following resolutions：…
WHEREAS；It has pleased the Almighty to remove from our midst
our greatest Rose Comb Buff Orpington fancier and esteemed friend；
Albert Edward Sheridain； therefore be it
RESOLVED；That the next edition of our catalogue contain an
illustrated memorial page in his honour and
RESOLVED；That the Rose Comb Buff Orpington Club extend to the
bereaved family their heartfelt sympathy。
The handsome young farmer followed us out to our trap； invited us to
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attend the next meeting of the R。 C。 B。 O。 Club； of which he was the
secretary； and asked if I were intending to 〃show。〃 I introduced Phoebe
as the senior partner； and she concealed the fact that we possessed but one
Buff Orpington； and he was a sad 〃invaleed〃 not suitable for exhibition。
The farmer's expression as he looked at me was almost lover…like； and
when he pressed a bit of paper into my hand I was sure it must be an offer
of marriage。 It was in fact only a circular describing the Banner Bone
Breaker。 It closed with an appeal to Buff Orpington breeders to raise and
ever raise the standard； bidding them remember； in the midst of a low…
minded and sordid civilisation； that the rose comb should be small and
neat； firmly set on； with good working； a nice spike at the back lying well
down to head； and never； under any circumstances； never sticking up。
This adjuration somewhat alarmed us as Phoebe and I had been giving our
Buff Orpington cockerel the most drastic remedies for his languid and
prostrate comb。
Coming home we alighted from the trap to gather hogweed for the
rabbits。 I sat by the wayside lazily and let Phoebe gather the appetising
weed； which grows along the thorniest hedges in close proximity to nettles
and thistles。
Workmen were trudging along with their luncheon…baskets of woven
bulrushes slung over their shoulders。 Fields of ripening grain lay on
either hand； the sun shining on their every shade of green and yellow；
bronze and orange； while the breeze stirred the bearded barley into a
rippling golden sea。
Phoebe asked me if the people I had left behind at the Hydropathic
were my relatives。
〃Some of them are of remote consanguinity；〃 I responded evasively；
and the next question was hushed upon her awe…stricken tongue； as I
intended。
〃They are obeying my wish to be let alone； there's no doubt of that；〃 I
was thinking。 〃For my part； I like a little more spirit； and a little less
〃letter〃！〃
As the word 〃letter〃 flitted through my thoughts； I pulled one from my
pocket and glanced through it carelessly。 It arrived； somewhat tardily；
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only last night； or I should not have had it with me。 I wore the same
dress to the post…office yesterday that I wore to the Hen Conference to…day；
and so it chanced to be still in the pocket。 If it had been anything I valued；
of course I should have lost or destroyed it by mistake； it is only silly；
worthless little things like this that keep turning up and turning up after
one has forgotten their existence。
〃You are a mystery！〃 ＇it ran。＇ 〃I can apprehend； but not comprehend
you。 I know you in part。 I understand various bits of your nature； but
my knowledge is always fragmentary and disconnected； and when I
attempt to make a whole of the mosaics I merely get a kaleidoscopic effect。
Do you know those geographical dissected puzzles that they give to
children？ You remind me of one of them。
〃I have spent many charming （and dangerous） hours trying to 〃put you
together〃； but I find； when I examine my picture closely； that after all I've
made a purple mountain grow out of a green tree； that my river is running
up a steep hillside； and that the pretty milkmaid； who should be wandering
in the forest； is standing on her head with her pail in the air
〃Do you understand yourself clearly？ Or is it just possible that when
you dive to the depths of your own consciousness； you sometimes find the
pretty milkmaid standing on her head？ I wonder！〃 。 。 。
Ah； well； it is no wonder that he wonders！ So do I； for that matter！
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CHAPTER XII
July 17th。
Thornycroft Farm seems to be the musical
