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She stood, squarely on both feet with her hands clasped behind her head. It s a stupid pose, said Miss Price. I can t imagine why they chose it. When Philip entered, the people in the studio had looked at him curiously, and the model gave him an indifferent glance, but now they ceased to pay attention to him. Philip, with his beautiful sheet of paper in front of him, stared awkwardly at the model. He did not know how to begin. He had never seen a naked woman before. She was not young and her breasts were shrivelled. She had colourless, fair hair that fell over her forehead untidily, and her face was covered with large freckles. He glanced at Miss Price s work. She had only been working on it two days, and it looked chelsea team shirt as though she had had trouble her paper was in a mess from constant rubbing out, and to Philip s eyes the figure looked strangely distorted. I should have thought I could do as well as that, he said to himself. He began on the head, thinking that he would work slowly downwards, but, he could not understand why, he found it infinitely more difficult to draw a head from the model than to draw one from his imagination. He got into difficulties. He glanced at Miss Price. She was working with vehement gravity. Her brow was wrinkled with eagerness, and there was an anxious look in her eyes. It was hot in the studio, and drops of sweat stood on her forehead. She was a girl of twenty six, with a great deal of dull gold hair it was handsome hair, but it was carelessly done, dragged back from her forehead and tied in a h.hopping lasted was deserted. They were very exclusive and would have resented the intrusion of foreigners, as they called the people who came from London they looked down upon them and feared them too they were a rough lot, and the respectable country folk did not want to mix with them. In the old days the hoppers slept in barns, but ten years ago a row of huts had been brazilian baby clothes erected at the side of a meadow and the Athelnys, like many others, had the same hut every year. Athelny met Philip at the station in a cart he had borrowed from the public house at which he had got a room for Philip. It was a quarter of a mile from the hop field. They left his bag there and walked over to the meadow in which were the huts. They were nothing more than a long, low shed, divided into little rooms about twelve feet square. In front of each was a fire of sticks, round which a family was grouped, eagerly watching the cooking of supper. The sea air and the sun had browned already the faces of Athelny s children. Mrs. Athelny seemed a different woman in her sun cute football shirts bonnet you felt that the long years in the city had made no real difference to her she was the country woman born and bred, and you could see how much at home she found herself in the country. She was frying bacon and at the same time keeping an eye on the younger children, but she had a hearty handshake and a jolly smile for Philip. Athelny was enthusiastic over the delights of a rural existence. We re starved for sun and light in the cities we live in. It isn t life, it s a long imprisonment. Let us sell all we have, Betty, and take a farm in the country. I can see you in the country, she answered with good humoured scorn. Why, the first rainy day we had in the winter you d be crying for London. She turned to Philip. Athelny s always like this when we come down here. Country, I like that Why, he don t know a swede from a mangel wurzel. Daddy was lazy today, remarked Jane, with the frankness which characterized her, he didn t fill one bin. I m getting into practice, child, and tomorrow I shall fill more bins than all of you put together. Come and eat your supper, children, said Mrs. Athelny. Where s Sally Here I am, mother. She stepped out of their little hut, and the flames of the wood fire leaped up and cast sharp colour upon her face. Of late Philip had only seen her in the trim frocks she had taken to since she was at the dressmaker s, and there was something very charming in.
said them under conditions of discomfort. The coldness of his hands and feet were an offering to the Almighty. And tonight he sank on his knees buried his face in his hands, and prayed to God with all his might that He would make his club foot whole. It was a very small thing beside the moving of mountains. He knew that God could do it if He wished, and his own faith was complete. Next morning, finishing his prayers with the same request, he fixed a date for the miracle. Oh, God, in Thy loving mercy and goodness, if it be Thy will, please make my foot all right on the night before I go back to school. He was glad to get his petition into a formula, and he repeated it later in the dining room during the short pause which the Vicar always made after prayers, before he rose from his knees. He said it again in the evening and again, shivering in his nightshirt, before he got into bed. And he believed. For once he looked forward with eagerness to the end of the holidays. 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