Who put that into your head, ma'am? Who's been scandalisin' me to you?" He turned, half-choking, and shook a minatory finger at Cai. "I-I didn' say I had any objection to fightin'-men, not when they're quiet," Mrs Bosenna made haste to observe in a pacificatory tone. In fact she was growing nervous, and felt that she had driven her revenge far enough. "My late husband was very fond of the -the ring-in his young days." It is easier, however, to arouse passions than to allay them. 'Bias continued to shake a finger at Cai, and Cai (be it said in justice) faced the accusation gamely. "I never scandalised you," he answered. "In fact I done all in my power to remove the impression." Feeling this to be infelicitous-in a sort of despair with his tongue, which had taken a twist and could say nothing aright this morninghe made haste to add in a tone at once easy and awkward, "It's my belief, 'Bias, as your parrot ain't fit to be left alone with females." "Well, I'm goin' to wring his neck anyway," promised 'Bias; "and, if some folks aren't careful, maybe I won't stop with his." Cai, though with rising temper, kept his nonchalance. "With you and me the creatur' don't feel the temptation, and consikently there's a side of his character hidden from us. But in female company it comes out. You may depend that's the explanation." "Why, of course it is," chimed in Mrs Bosenna with suddensuspiciously sudden-conviction. "How clever of Captain Hocken to think of it!" "Yes, he's clever," growled 'Bias, unappeased. "Oh, he's monstrous clever, ma'am, is Caius Hocken! Such a friend, too!... And now, perhaps, he'll explain how it happened— he bein' so clever and such a friend-as he didn' find this out two nights ago and warn me?" "I did warn ye, 'Bias," Cai's face had gone white under the taunt. "But I'll admit to you I might have pitched it stronger. . . . If you remember, on top of discussin' the parrot we fell to discussin' something-something more important to both of us; and that drove the bird out o' my head. It never crossed my mind again till bedtime, and then I meant to warn ye next day at breakfast." "You're good at explanations, this mornin',' sneered 'Bias. "Better fit there was no need, and you'd played fair." "Played fair'!"-Cai flamed up at last "I don't take that from you, 'Bias Hunken, nor yet from any one! You fell into your own trap-that's what happened to you. 'Played fair'? I suppose you was playin' fair when you sneaked off unbeknowns and early to Rilla that mornin', after we'd agreed "Well?" asked 'Bias, as Cai came to a halt. "You know well enough what we agreed," was Cai's tame conclusion. "Where's the bird, ma'am," ing in wait to knock his head off. Cai did not care. Nothing mattered now-nothing but a desire to follow 'Bias and have another word with him. It might even be. . . . But no: 'Bias was lost to him, lost irrevocably. Yet he craved to follow, catch up with him, plead for one more word. asked 'Bias dully. Both men felt that all was over between them now, though neither quite understood how it had happened. "It-it seems I've offended you, and I ask your pardon. As for my doin' this o' purpose-well, you must believe it or not. That's as conscience bids ye. . . . But one warnin' I'll give-A bad friend don't us'ally make a good husband." He motioned to Dinah to lead the way to the parlour, and so, with a jerk of the head, took his leave, not without dignity. Mrs Bosenna promptly burst into tears. Cai, left alone with her and with the despair in his heart, slowly (scarce knowing what he did) drew forth a red spotted handkerchief and eyed it. Maybe he had, to begin with, some intention of proffering it. But he stood still, a figure of woe, now glancing at Mrs Bosenna, anon staring fixedly at the handkerchief as if in wonder how it came in his hand. He noted, too, for the first time that the tall clock in the corner had an exceptionally loud tick. "Go away!" commanded Mrs Bosenna after a minute or so, looking up with tear-stained eyes. It seemed that she had suddenly became aware of his presence. Cai picked up his hat. "I was waitin' your leave, ma'am." "Go, please!" He went. He was indeed anxious to be gone. Very likely at the white gate, below by the stream, 'Bias was stand He went quickly down the path to the gate, but of 'Bias there was no sign. Poor Cai! He took a step or two down the road, and halted. Since 'Bias was not in sight there would be little chance of overtaking him on this side of the town; and in the street no explanation would be possible. Cai turned heavily, set his face inland, and started to walk at a great pace. As though walking could exorcise what he carried in his heart! Meanwhile 'Bias went striding down the valley with equal vigour and even more determination. His right hand gripped the parrot-cage, swinging it as he strode, and at intervals bumping it violently upon the calf of his right leg, much to his discomfort, very much more to that of the bird which nevertheless, though bewildered by the rapid nauseating motion, and at times flung asprawl, obstinately forbore to reproduce the form of words so offensive in turn to Mrs Bowldler and the ladies at Rilla. Once or twice, as his hand tired, and the rim of the cage impinged painfully on his upper ankle-bone, 'Bias halted and swore— Philp. "All right, my beauty! "Ah!" said Mr You just wait till we get "That's what I'd like to home!" He had never wrung a bird's neck, and had no notion how to start on so fell a deed. He was, moreover, a humane man. Yet resolutely and without compunction he promised the parrot its fate. A little beyond the entrance of the town, by the gateway of Mr Rogers's coal store, he came on a group-a trio-he could not well pass without salutation. They were Mr Rogers (in his bath-chair and wicked as ever) and Mr Philp, with Fancy Tabb in attendance as usual. "Well, I hope you're satisfied this time?" Mr Rogers was saying. "I suppose I must be," Mr Philp was grumbling in answer. "But all I can say is, coals burn faster than they used." "It's the way with best Newcastle." Mr Rogers, who had never sold a ton of Newcastle coal in his life (let alone the best), gave this cheerful assurance without winking an eye. "So you've told me more'n once," retorted Mr Philp. "I never made a study o' trade rowts, as they're called; but more'n once, too, it's been in my mind to ask ye how Newcastle folk come to ship their coal to Troy by way o' Runcorn." Mr Rogers blinked knowledgeably. "It shortens the distance," he replied, "by a lot. But you was sayin' as coals burned faster. Well, they do, and what's the reason?" know." "Damn! That's just it." "What can it say?" "Dunno. Wish I did. Will ye take the bird for a gift, or would ye rather have sixpence to wring its neck?" "Both," suggested Mr Philp with promptitude. "What yer wrigglin' for like that, at the back o' my chair, you Tabb's child?" asked Mr Rogers, whose paralysis prevented his turning his head. "Offer for 'n, master!" whispered Fancy. Mr Rogers, if he heard, made no sign. "D'ye mean it?" he inquired of 'Bias. "I'm rather partial to parrots, as it happens: and it's a fine bird. What's the matter with it?" "I don't know," "Bias confessed again. "I wish some body'd find out: but they tell me it can't be trusted with ladies," "Is that why you're takin' it for a walk? ... Well, I'll risk five bob, if it's goin' cheap." Mr Philp's face fell. "I'd ha' gone half-a-crown, myself," he murmured resignedly; "but I can't bid up against a rich man like Mr Rogers. You don't know what he says?" "No more'n Adam only that it's too shockin' for human ears. If Mr Rogers cares to take the bird for five shillin', he's welcome and good riddance. Only he won't never find out what's wrong with him." "Honest?" asked Mr Rogers. "Honest. I've lived alongside this bird seven years; he was bought off a missionary; and I don't know." Ah, well!" sighed Mr Philp. Money can't buy everything. But I don't mind bettin' I'd ha' found out." "Would ye now?" queried Mr Rogers with a wicked chuckle. "I'll put up a match, then. The bird's mine for five shillin': but Philp shall have him for a month, and I'll bet Philp half-a-crown he don't discover what you've missed. Done, is it?" "Done!" echoed Mr Philp, appealing to 'Bias and reaching out a hand for the cage. "Done!" echoed 'Bias. "Five shillin' suits me at any time, and I'm glad to be rid o' the brute." "There's one stippylation," put in Mr Rogers. "Philp must tell me honest what he discovers. . . . You, Tabb's child, you're jogglin' my chair again!” So 'Bias, the five shillings handed over, went his way; relieved of one burden, but not of the main one. "Well, if I ever!" echoed Dinah, returning to the kitchen at Rilla. "If that wasn't a masterpiece, and no mistake!" "Is the bird gone?" asked her mistress. "Then you might fry me a couple of sausages and lay breakfast in the parlour.' Dinah sighed. ""Tis lovely," she said, "to be able to play the fool with men . . . 'tis lovely, and 'tis what women were made for. But 'tis wasteful o' chances all the same. There goes two that'll never come back." "You leave that to me," said Mrs Bosenna, who had dried her eyes. "Joke or no, you'll admit I paid them out for it. Now don't you fall into sentiments, but attend to prickin' the sausages. You know I hate a burst sausage.' (To be continued.) A SATYRIC DRAMA OF SOPHOCLES. The salient features of Satyric drama were happily summed up by the critic Demetrius in the often-quoted phrase "playful tragedy." Its principal IN the numerous additions and others. A fair sample of which Egyptian papyri have a Sophoclean Satyric drama lately been making to the therefore reveals what is remains of Greek literature, almost a new side of the the tragedians, if not especi- poet. ally conspicuous, have by no means been left out in the cold. The first considerable gainer was Euripides, of whose lost 66 Antiope" substantial pieces were extracted from the cartonnage of a mummy some twenty years ago. More recently large fragments of the same dramatist's "Hypsipyle," of sufficient compass to elucidate much of the structure, were disinterred at Oxyrhynchus in Upper Egypt. Now has come the turn of Sophocles; and the latest discovery, which was also made at Oxyrhynchus, and has just been edited, is without doubt the best. Not only is the find more satisfactory in point of preservation than others in the same category which have preceded, but the work proves to be a Satyric drama, not an ordinary tragedy; and with Sophocles as a writer of Satyrplays we are wholly unfamiliar. As is well known, the only complete extant specimen of that branch of dramatic composition is the "Cyclops" of Euripides; of the older authors there remain but the titles of some of their plays and short disjointed fragments preserved in the citations of grammarians characters were the gods and heroes of the national mythology, which also supplied the tragic stage; but the stories chosen were such as were adapted to a lighter treatment, and a comic setting was provided in the invariable chorus of Satyrs. In Euripides' "Cyclops," where the giant Polyphemus, who is blinded of his eye, may be called a tragi-comic figure, and Silenus and his satellites are buffoons, Odysseus preserves a grave and decorous demeanour. Similarly in the new piece of Sophocles, to which we shall come directly, Apollo and the nymph Cyllene maintain their dignity unimpaired. No doubt, as Horace has remarked in his "Art of Poetry," these sedate figures look a little out of place in such surroundings: "Tragoedia . . intererit Satyris paullum pudibunda "; it was upon this contrast of diverse elements that such compositions largely depended for their humorous effect. They lay on the border 1 Published in Part VI. of the 'Oxyrhynchus Papri,' 1908. |